Lady Bathory liked Lady Syron at first glance. It seemed like these two women had lots in common: They both lived in arranged marriages, only Lady Syron's marriage seemed to be a happy one. Lady Bathory, however, had discovered that as her beauty faded so did her husband's interest in her. Now she had to share him with numerous mistresses, and she was expected to treat each of these mistresses with friendliness and respect. Even if some of her husband's favorites did not show her any kind of respect in return. True, she lacked no material goods - but still she lived like in a cage.
And now her husband had decided to marry off their young daughter in the same kind of loveless marriage... Lady Bathory shuddered, but she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop this event from happening. She didn't like the young man her husband had chosen for their daughter. There was something cold about him, that made her fear for her daughter's future happiness. She felt instinctively that her daughter would now be sentenced to the same kind of loveless marriage she herself had been through.
But she knew she could not protest. Her husband would punish her brutally if she ever did anything that ruined his chances of a good business deal. He had even threatened to cut her off from any contact with her daughter if she did not behave and allowed this wedding arrangement to take place. So Lady Bathory remained silent and obeyed. Her duty was to take care of Lady Syron and be a good hostess. If the Lady enjoyed her stay here, Lady Bathory had a small hope that perhaps Lady Syron at least could be of some help and support for young Flavia in her new home.
Lady Bathory smiled a faint and timid smile when Lord Syron greeted her, giving him the deep curtsy as he bowed to her. "Welcome to our home, Lord and Lady Syron," she replied, trying to sound as pleased as her husband demanded. "I hope you all will enjoy your stay here..."
As Lord Syron again turned to her husband, Lady Bathory brought Lady Syron to the salon in the room next to this. The ladies could sit there and chat, getting to know each other while the men went through the business deal together. Lady Bathory hoped to win Lady Syron's favor. If she succeeded at least Flavia would have Lady Syron's support in the married life ahead of her.
Lord Bathory had forgotten his wife the moment she left the room. He knew she would do her part, winning the sympathy of Lady Syron for them. A mother-in-law would have great influence on his daughter's future life, and make sure the girl behaved in her new life as a married woman. His own attention was on the Lords Syron, both father and son. He responded to Rasul's smile with a smile of his own. That boy had a good head on his shoulder, and he was quite good-looking too. Strong, brave and muscular. What girl wouldn't dream of a man like him?
"I am certain we'll get along wonderfully too, Rasul," he replied and gave the boy's shoulder a friendly pat. "I look forward for our families to get united too. In addition to the manor you receive as a wedding present in the contract, I have also managed to find a way to grant you a yearly income of 30 000 gold coins for as long as you are married to my daughter. In the case of a divorce however, the money will return to the Bathory Family. What do you think of such a surprise for your wedding?"
Seeing how Lord Syron puffed his substantial chest proudly, he smiled and patted the elder man's back. "You have every right to be proud of your son, dear friend," he said with a smile. "A bright young man. He and my daughter will be able to produce many lovely children."
He allowed Lord Syron to read the documents carefully. He knew that not all young couples had promise of a regular income of 30 000 gold coins a year, but he wanted to see the young man before making such a promise. Now that he had seen the boy however, he knew that he would be a wonderful man for young Flavia. His precious little gem of a daughter was worth such a price. Had she not already gained the reputation as the most beautiful young woman in the Bathory family for generations? None of her sisters or cousins could hold a candle to her.
While the two Syron men inspected the contract and his daughter, Lord Syron inspected the content of the heavy chest. A broad smile of content washed over his face when he saw the treasuries within. "My dear Lord Syron, this is even better than you wrote in the contract," he said, patting Lord Syron on the back. "I must say it is indeed a pleasure to do business with you..."
He grinned as he saw Rasul's hesitation to sign the document - just like Lord Bathory himself had done before marrying Lady Bathory. "Ah, you want to see your bride before signing," he chuckled. "That only shows you have a good head on your shoulder...."
As young Flavia shyly entered the room it was his turn to puff his chest in fatherly pride. The girl showed the grace and beauty he had trained her to all her life, and he watched Rasul's face expression as he studied the girl. "Isn't she beautiful?" he said to both men with pride in his voice. "The White Gem of Essyrn is what the servants call her. She has barely reached marrying age, so she is pure and untouched by men. She is also kind, loving and obedient. I have no doubt she will be a good wife."
He grinned as also Rasul quickly signed the contract before handing it back to him. "I knew you would like her, young friend," he said. "As soon as the priest has performed the rituals she will be all yours. I made sure to give you a room with a double bed, and the servants will not disturb unless you call for them."
Young Flavia blushed deeply at the stares of the two Syron men, her blushing increasing when Lord Syron the elder brushed a gentlemanly kiss against the back of her hand. She responded to his greeting with a deep curtsy as she had been taught.
"It is an honor to meet you, Mylord," she stuttered, still uncertain of who these men were and what they were doing in her family home.
The girl watched as the elderly man turned back to her father, her fine brows arching when she heard his words about her and a certain Rasul making a fine match.
Who is Rasul? she thought. I don't know anyone by that name... Who are these men, and why are they here?
Her questions were answered a few moments later, when the young man standing beside the elderly gentleman continued staring at her. He looked quite handsome, but when he spoke, Flavia heard a callous, icy edge in his voice - an edge that made her tremble inwardly. Her face paled when she realized that this young man was Rasul - the man she had heard would be a good match for her.
"I-It's an honor to meet you, Lord R-Rasul," she stuttered and offered a deep curtsy, sending her father a quick glance of slight desperation.
"Yes, this is Lord Rasul Syron," her father replied calmly, without even bothering about the slowly rising panic in her eyes. "Today is your wedding day, and Rasul Syron will be your husband."
Flavia's face paled, and she threw her father a pleading glance.
Please father, don't put me through this, she silently pleaded. He is evil - I can feel it. Please, father, don't make me marry him! I'll marry anyone you say except from him!
By the front door, a servant opened the door to let in the recently arrived Priest. He was escorted into the office where Lord Bathory received him without acknowledging Flavia's silent pleads.
"Ah, the Priest has arrived," he called out in his deep voice. "Then gentlemen, if you are ready, let the wedding begin. Priest, do your job. You will receive your payment after the ceremony."
Taking Flavia's hand, he sent her a stern gaze before placing her hand in the hand of Rasul - the token that she now belonged to Rasul, as soon as the wedding Ritual was over.
Flavia saw the gaze her father sent her and knew that the battle was lost before it had started. If she uttered one word of protest that would ruin the marriage her father had carefully planned for her, she knew she would be severely punished. Without another word of protest she placed her tiny hand in Rasul's under her father's watchful gaze. The tiny hand holding the young man's was pale and delicate, and at the moment it trembled from an unknown fear.